Breaking from the Branch
by Nynve Dagonet
Summary: The sun is shining brightly upon Camelot, Merlin is having a perfectly acceptable day running around, doing tedious chores for the prince. Little did the young sorcerer know, this would be the day his relationship with Arthur would be forever changed...
1. The First Sight of Red

The First Sight of Red

_**"Merlin..."**_

_**"Yes?"**_

_**"I love you."**_

_**"What?"**_

_**"I said..."**_

_...merlin..._

_**"I..."**_

_...Merlin..._

_**"love..."**_

_...Merlin!_

_**"...you."**_

_MERLIN!_

With a single swoop, Giaus emptied a pitcher of frigid water upon the face of the exhausted, young warlock. Merlin's limbs flailed in a terrified frenzy, attempting to save himself from the icy lake he had unexpectedly entered in his (previously lovely) dream. Whilst gasping for oxygen, he managed to smash the side of his confused head on his bedside table, finally waking him from his wondrous nap. He glanced up to find Giaus glaring disapprovingly at him. The sun was already high in the sky, announcing that the prince would awaken at any moment!

"You couldn't have thought of a more _civilized _way of waking me up!"

Giaus attempted to keep a stern expression upon his time-ridden features, but the humor of the situation swiftly took hold and he lightly smirked at the soggy manservant before him.

"You better get a move on, Merlin," Giaus tossed him a towel, "duty calls."

It took Merlin merely a minute or so to be out of the door, for he knew the punishment for being late to wake the prince... moving target practice. He shivered at the thought while he sprinted through the stone corridors. As his lean legs carried him throughout the magnificent palace, a sequestered phrase continually pestered his mind, _"I love you... I love you..."_

Making a quick stop at the palace kitchen, he fetched the prince's breakfast: five strawberries, two eggs, and a baked potato. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the small feast steaming with warmth and flavor, for he had been forced to skip breakfast this morning.

Upon bursting into the prince's quarters, he found Arthur (thankfully) still resting and snoring with such magnitude that it resonated throughout the entire room with a booming echo. It took all of Merlin's being not to burst out in a fit of laughter. Just as he was about to wake his master, Merlin stood there for a moment, tracing the nobleman's perfectly sculpted muscles with his captivated eyes. There were tiny slivers of light escaping from the closed curtains that highlighted them almost artistically. Merlin tilted his head slightly as he bit the topmost part of his bottom lip.

"_Stop it Merlin! You're only hurting yourself by doing this!"_

The sorcerer tried desperately to avert his eyes from the superbly exquisite scene, but he caught a sudden whiff of Arthur's intoxicating scent and was once again drawn to the sight of the prince. He could feel his blood swim faster through his veins, his heart nearly smashing against his ribcage with every beat. Merlin wanted to do more than just gaze upon this fascinatingly distracting man, he wanted to..._**feel **_him, _**taste **_his skin, **breathe **him in, **grip **his bloody perfect hair-

_"MERLIN! Stop this! You've managed to keep your magic a secret for this long... why should your feelings be any different..."_

He frantically shook his head, attempting to reclaim his thoughts and simultaneously rid himself of his suddenly rosy cheeks, _"You're his servant, Merlin... nothing more..."_

In a very respectful manner, he placed the platter of delicacies upon Arthur's table, sauntered to the window, and unveiled it while declaring in a fictitious sense of cheer, "Rise and shine, Sire! It's a beautiful day!"

Arthur, extremely irritated by the sudden beams of light pounding upon his eyelids, unwillingly rose from his comfy bed. His citrine hair was completely and utterly disheveled. He smiled brightly at the sight of his manservant. He could tell that Merlin had gotten up in a hurry, for his luminous (yet pitch-black) hair was quite bedraggled in the back. The prince let out a delicate giggle as he whispered under his breath, _"Oh, Merlin...Well, I'm going to have to give him a hard time... how could I not?" _His striking blue eyes glistened as he stretched his weary arms, yawned, and ferociously threw the nearest, finely patterned pillow at the back of Merlin's head.

"OW! What was that for!"

Sitting up in his bed, Arthur smugly grinned, "You really thought I wouldn't notice?"

A surge of complete and utter terror swept up Merlin's back, causing it to unnaturally straighten. His brilliant ultramarine eyes widened as he shifted his weight nervously. Stumbling over his every word, he attempted to form a comprehendible sentence, "I was just- I thought that you were sl- What are you talking about?" Merlin locked his jaw, _"Great... just great..."_

"You..." Arthur, with a sudden rush of energy upon seeing his breakfast, galloped out of bed,"... are late."

Merlin let out a sigh of relief as he rolled his eyes thankfully, "What are you talking about I'm right on time..." he nervously adjusted his blue scarf, still trembling slightly.

"Nope, you're late, by four minutes if my eyes serve me right," he pointed out the window, from his table, to where the sun was lethargically rising in the sky. It was (ever so barely) past the 7:00 mark. Arthur gazed at Merlin and with almost a menacing tone he said, "You know what that means."

The sorcerer passionately stared at the shirtless prince,__**"**_**God I want you...**_**"**

Remembering his status and swiftly snapping back to reality, Merlin's eyes darted around the room as he hectically attempted to think of an explanation for his tardiness, "Come on, Arthur! I still have bruises from last time!"

"Not my problem."

"But-"

"Merlin!"

"...but-"

"MERLIN! It's either target practice or the stalks! Now get over here and pour me some water! I'm parched!"

"...yes, Sire," defeated, Merlin dragged himself over to the prince, water pitcher in hand.

_"You really can be a prat, Arthur Pendragon..."_

Just as he was about to feast upon his lovely breakfast, Arthur paused, "Merlin?"

"Yes?" fearful that Arthur had somehow heard his thoughts, Merlin nonchalantly filled the prince's goblet with the crystal clear liquid, managing not to spill a single drop.

"Why are there no strawberries on my plate?"

Merlin glanced down at his slightly less hollow stomach, "I-I believe they just ran out, Sire."

Arthur stood from his throne-like dining chair, a mischievous grin working its way upon his face, "Then would you care to explain why there's strawberry all over your bloody neck?"

_Bloody indeed._ Upon his blue scarf, lay the spewed remnants of a once perfectly succulent strawberry. Spurts of crimson could also be seen surrounding the corners of his perfectly rosy lips and just below his jaw where his skin seemed to be the most pale. Arthur drew a line down Merlin's fragile neck with his index finger, collecting what remained of the fiery juice. Merlin's eyes fastened upon Arthur's, unsure of what the hell he was doing. In an almost dream-like state, Arthur placed his entire hand around his servant's neck, possessively clutching the back of it. He caressed the livid skin with his thumb, seeming to forget everything he wasn't supposed to be, everything he wasn't _allowed_ to crave. Merlin froze, losing the battle of wills going on within his head. His body grew suddenly limp and powerless as one of his hands began snaking up the prince's bare back. Arthur entrancingly leaned into Merlin, his lips now inches away from the warlock's slanted neck. Merlin's eyelashes wildly fluttered as he felt the prince's warm breath upon his skin. A hushed moan slipped from Merlin's lips, bringing the nobleman back to reality just as quickly as he had escaped it. His back suddenly went rigid with fear and embarrassment.

_"Dear God... what am I doing?"_

Acting as though he didn't almost just give into his inescapable urges, Arthur took a quick step backwards, picked up his index finger from the boy's pasty neck, and placed it upon his tongue, "Mmmmm! How I would have loved to devour those! Looks as though you will be graced with both target practice and the stalks today, Merlin! Bravo!" he clapped his hands sarcastically, "I believe you've reached a whole new level of improper servantry!"

He forcefully snatched the goblet from Merlin's frail hands and made his way for the door, holding his breath the entire way, _"Did that just happen... did you just- Oh my God you did..."_

His face had gone as red as a newly blossomed strawberry (ironic). Arthur was going to get as far away from Merlin as humanly possible, he obviously could no longer control himself around his servant... servant... Merlin was his bloody servant. If his father were to find out... that would never happen, for _they _would never happen... He purposely left his breakfast untouched because, though he would most likely never make eye contact with him again, he knew Merlin was on the brink of starvation. The sorcerer, utterly heartbroken and confused, stared longingly at the prince as he turned to enter the hallway. Acting as though he had not been dreaming of that moment for ages, he bowed timidly.

"Thank you, Sire."

Arthur stopped in the middle of his carved doorway, twirled around, stared for a moment at Merlin's impeccable lips, then unmercifully blared, "Don't forget to polish my armor, clean my room, wash my clothes, and make my bed. I expect to see you in two hours, Merlin! Don't even **think** about being late if you value being my servant," upon leaving, he glanced at Merlin's unfathomably gorgeous eyes. For some reason, there seemed to be a deep melancholia residing within them, a sadness and hunger that chilled Arthur to the very core. Realizing he was (once again) staring at his manservant, he took a short sip of water out of his silver, glittering goblet to hide the embarrassment that continued to creep over his chiseled features, and swiftly left his chambers, feeling as though he had left a beloved part of himself behind... no matter what was to happen... Arthur would **always** needMerlin if he was to be _whole_...

Merlin waited until he could no longer hear the prince's footsteps to inhale his breakfast and gather his jumbled thoughts, "I enjoy being your servant far more then you will ever know, Arthur."


	2. The Second Sight of Red

Arthur examined the row of weapons before him. Delicately stroking each one he passed. They were now outside on the training field, the other knights gleefully awaited Merlin's punishment, for it was always very humorous to watch. The hum of Camelot surrounded them as the astoundingly bright sun beat down on the armored men. Both Merlin and his master avoided each other's wandering eyes, neither of them wanting to address what had occurred earlier that day. Arthur would every so often glance back at his "servant", adoring the way the light highlighted his razor-sharp cheekbones.

_"Alright Arthur, you have to make this believable… or they'll suspect that something is going on… I must abolish all speculation that…that…"_

That he treasured the way Merlin smelled of lilacs…how his eyes challenged the very depth of the midnight sky… his adorable smile… how he longed to... _**feel**_ him,_** taste **_his skin,_** breath **_him in,_** grip **_his bloody perfect hair-

_ "ARTHUR! Focus! You must make this look real..."_

The prince abruptly stopped his jaunt at the most menacing weapon he saw, "Why don't we start with the mace today?" He swiftly grasped the gothic piece of weaponry and twirled it high above his head causing Merlin to shiver uncontrollably and the crowd of knights to break out into an uproar of laughter and emphatic clapping. Upon its spikes was caked a dried red substance, courtesy of its previous victim. The terrified warlock glared at the prince. Arthur was (at times) quite cruel, but never like this. He was being even more abrasive and supercilious than usual...

Arthur grinned at the sight of his manservant, fully adorned in the armor of a knight. He clung to a flimsy training shield that bore the Crest of Camelot upon it. His thin fingers tightly gripped it's handle as though his very life depended on whether the shield held up or not... which realistically... was the truth. The prince stifled an oncoming chuckle as he resumed his (seemingly) emotionless expression. Merlin's helmet was slightly too large for him causing it to obscure his vision horrifically. He pushed it up to meet the gaze of the handsome, young prince. Merlin stared at Arthur's lips, greatly resisting the urge to stride forward and kiss the nobleman senseless, then with a hint of defeat in his voice, he moaned, "Does it _have_ to be the mace?"

The knights all simultaneously began chanting: MACE! MACE! MACE! MACE!

The young warlock shot the group a cold glare.

"The vote is unanimous, Merlin," Arthur slowly gravitated closer to his servant with mace in hand. His azure eyes were desperately trying to explain his intentions to the lanky manservant, and to apologize for what he was about to do. With a quick sigh, he apprehensively raised the mace, "Let's see if your blocking techniques have improved any."

The prince darted towards Merlin while bellowing some type of incoherent battle cry. Without heeding the possible consequences, Merlin whispered,"**Tóspringe," **under his breath as his (normally electric blue) eyes glowed a fiery amber causing the menacing, blood caked orb to unexpectedly break free from its constraints. A hush broke out through the crowd of knights; all eyes were glued to the spinning sphere of death. It was headed right towards the crowd of Camelot's best and bravest men, and in the blink of an eye, all hell broke loose. All of them leaped in different directions, most of them smashing into each other. A wave of panic flew through Arthur when he lost sight of his manservant in the crowd of madness. He instinctively shouted,_ "__**MERLIN!" **_Sharp pangs of fear boomed through his chest when he didn't hear an answer.

__ Sir Leon tripped over Sir Percival as Elian practically dove over the both of them. The terrified sorcerer frantically searched for the prince, darting about the panicing knights, _**"Arthur!"**_

The group was continually screeching as though a dragon was about to swoop down and devour them all. Merlin's heart sank as he saw the mace sink its unforgiving teeth into its next victim. Gwaine fell to the mossy ground, clutching his shredded shoulder in agony. Merlin and Arthur, temporarily wiping their minds of what had occurred this morning, simultaneously sprinted over to their injured companion.

"How the bloody hell did that happen?" Gwaine shouted,"I used that very mace yesterday!" The blood began to gush furiously from his open wound.

Arthur clutched the knights other shoulder,"Can you walk, Gwaine?"

He beamed up at the concerned prince,"Your'e not getting rid of me that easily."

The entire party heartily laughed with their fellow comrade, breaking the tension in the air. Merlin and Arthur were both radiantly smiling when they accidentaly met each other's gaze. A furious blush immediately seized their faces, causing them to tensely look off into opposite directions. The knights lifted Gwaine from the moist ground, brushing him off slightly. Still blushing, Merlin placed Gwaine's undamaged arm over his boney shoulder,"I'll take you to see Giaus."

Gwaine winced as they started their trek back towards the castle. The blood began trickling down the knight's chain-mailed torso causing it to glisten brightly in the sun. Arthur glared suspiciously at the dismantled mace. All that remained was the wooden handle, carved from 50 year old ash, and half of the silver chain. The place in the linked metal where the spiked-sphere had broken loose from was strangely smooth and clean cut, as though something had sliced it free. As Merlin assisted Gwaine up the stone steps, he self-consciously glanced backward to find Arthur beholding the ravenous weapon. He swallowed hesitantly, for he knew Arthur had been trained to sniff out sorcery since he was a child, and this situation reeked of it.

The prince stroked the mace's handle as he intensely scrutinized the weapon,_ "It... can't be..."_

Attempting to draw his attention away from the investigation, Merlin shouted, "Arthur! Would you help me carry him to Giaus," he managed a grin, "I'm not as strong as I look."

The prince, concentrating on not letting his affection shine through his brilliant eyes, looked at Merlin from a distance,"Can't you do anything on your own, Merlin!" There was a slight levity to his voice mixed with a faked sense of annoyance. Still suspicious of the damaged armament, Arthur reluctantly dropped it and sprinted to the injured man's side. The warlock sighed gratefully. Within his buzzing mind, he savagely scolded himself for his carelessness,"_Stupid! __**Stupid**__! You are only to use magic for the good of __**all**__! Not for your own selfish needs!_ _Stupid!-..._ _Arthur just touched my hand... did he do that on purpose... Dear God, they're so soft..."_

Unbeknownst to his manservant, Arthur also silently pondered to himself,"_... Who on Earth would be bold enough to use magic __**inside **__the palace walls... I must find whoever-... did I just touch Merlin's hand... Oh my God... his eyelashes are so long… I can smell his hair from here… his hand is so soft..."_


	3. The Third and Final Sight of Red

The party of men hastily made their way through the grand hallways of the castle, determination steadily pulsating through them. They would, every so often, run into a group of engrossed chamber maids that sent the assemblage concerned glances before returning to their previous quests. They continued to ramble through the endless fortress, leaving behind a spotted trail of blood. Each step seemed to increase the weight of the knight, tenfold. Gwaine had fallen into a state of profound unconsciousness due to the generous amount of blood he had lost during the excursion, leaving Arthur and his servant to each other's incredibly awkward company. A looming silence fell over the pair, for the only sounds that surrounded them were their own footsteps and the drag of Gwaine's leather boots. Arthur noted how beautifully Merlin's dark hair bobbed up and down with each one of his broad steps. Masking a grin, Merlin distantly admired the adorable way Arthur was trying not to look at him. To the nobleman's delight, the young warlock had removed his scarf before this escapade had taken place, leaving his sharp collar bone exposed to Arthur's wandering eyes. The prince unintentionally licked his lips, feeling the muscles in his neck begin to tense up...

_"...you're doing it again, Arthur."_

Returning his attention to the hallways before him, he felt the urge to say something- anything to break the tension between him and his "servant." Still averting his eyes from Merlin's, he murmured tensely, "So... this morning... that was-," Arthur ineptly cleared his throat.

Merlin finished the noble's sentence within the safety of his mind,_"...perfect... extraordinary... fantastic... overwhelming... superb... shocking... divine... outstanding... what I've been __**craving **__for years?"_

"...strange," Arthur managed a smirk, masking his true emotions remarkably well.

Merlin nodded in agreeance, "All is forgotten, Sire..." he glanced over at the prince, longingly taking in his impeccable bone structure, the way his golden hair swayed upon his forehead... those delectable lips...

_"You should be happy, Merlin... everything has returned to normal... well, everything besides the fact that you still __**constantly**__ want to rip Arthur's shirt off..."_

_ "Stupid bloody Merlin and his stupid bloody face... and his lilac scented hair... his adorable retorts... those cheekbones..."_

An unspoken sadness drifted between the two young men. Refraining from speaking out again, Arthur tightly gripped Gwaine's armor causing his knuckles to turn a bright white. He could feel beads of sweat begin to settle near his temples as his eyelashes rapidly batted. Why was he so anxious? He was always at his most comfortable when Merlin was by his side, but not today. Today, Arthur felt… exposed, vulnerable, weak… and no matter how hard he tried, the prince could not shake these unfamiliar feelings that engrossed his noble heart. He glanced back at Merlin, bringing about a rush of brilliant memories. He wanted- _needed _Merlin to know how special he was, how much he'd changed Arthur, how he'd sculpted him into a far better man then he was on the day they had first met when Merlin's witty remarks had immediately captivated him. The prince yearned for ownership over this magnificent creature… to be with him always…

_"… I am my own man… I will let no one, not even my own father, tell me who I am and who I am not allowed to love… you are your own man, Arthur. Nothing will ever be able to stand between you and Merlin."_

Conjuring up every ounce of courage he had, Arthur looked over at the (almost sickeningly thin) warlock as they drifted closer and closer to Giaus' chambers.

"Merlin… I-I have something rather important to discuss... with you..."

"I know, I know. If I'm not in the stalks by 4 you'll feed me to the dogs," his voice was brimming with over exaggeration, "and if your clothes aren't washed by 7 you'll be sure I never see the sunlight again, and if-"

The prince cut him off, mid-rant, "Please... Merlin- this is a subject that is very dear to me."

Slightly puzzled by the sudden severity in the prince's voice, Merlin nodded, "Of course, Sire. I'm listening," he instinctively went to grab Arthur's hand, but abruptly stopped before their skin was allowed to touch. Gloomily drawing it back, he let out a defeated sigh, but made sure it wasn't loud enough for the prince to hear.

_"... he's listening. Bloody hell, Arthur, __**NOW**__ what do you say?"_

The prince chided himself for his lack of poetic charisma. He couldn't breath correctly around Merlin, let alone stitch together a heart-felt speech.

"I'm not sure how to say this, Merlin."

The manservant furrowed his brow. He was usually able to read Arthur's handsome features quite easily, but for the first time, Merlin was unable to see what was truly rattling around in that kingly brain of his. All he was able to gather was that something was deeply troubling the prince, and to see **his **Arthur so distraught, greatly troubled the young warlock as well.

"...Arthur?"

"Merlin, this morning... I-I... I've never-" each syllable became harder and harder to pronounce, _"Just say it, Arthur!"_

"Merlin, I love y-"

The pounding of oncoming footsteps interrupted the nobleman's confession. A figure (almost as lanky as Merlin) came whirling around one of the sharp corners and darted furiously towards the company. It was Carmine, the most recent manservant to Sir Gwaine. The aquamarine shirt that he wore contradicted greatly with his thick, blonde hair. As he skidded to an abrupt stop at the feet of the wounded knight, Merlin noted how the brilliance of his eyes seemed to rival only that of an emerald's.

Not yet acknowledging the other men's presence, Carmine cursed under his breath, glaring at the Gwaine's blood soaked armor, "I leave for 30 minutes! **30 minutes! **I've been searching this whole bloody castle all day for this prat!" exhausted, he wiped his forehead of the stress induced sweat that settled upon it. Though he was obviously flustered, there was an underlying thankfulness that resided within the depths of his voice.

Taken in by the servant's non-chalant behavior towards his master, Merlin giggled uncertainly, "...you must be new. You really shouldn't speak of him like that. They're easily offended," the sorcerer offered a friendly smile that was progressively returned by the unfamiliar manservant. Carmine nodded his head at the warlock, tipping some of his golden hair into his line of vision, "And who might you be?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, uneasily breathing out_, "Of course… of BLOODY course… you finally work up the __**gull**__ to tell Merlin you love him, and you're interrupted by a simpleton… real confidence booster."_

"I'm Merlin and... uh..," Merlin tilted his head towards his (suddenly less enthralling) muse, "this is Prince Arthur."

The moment the word 'prince' entered the air, Carmine winced, tightly shutting his emerald eyes in despair,"Arthur...son of Uther Pendragon...that Arthur?"

Annoyed by both the unwelcomed interruption and the fact that Carmine seemed to have drawn the full attention of **his **Merlin, Arthur dropped the wounded Gwaine into the servant's arms, "The very same," he then protectively stepped in between the two of them and crossed his arms.

Carmine clung to the knight's armor whilst bowing anxiously, "My apologies, Sire. I didn't know you were- I meant no disrespect."

Arthur replied coldly, "Deliver Gwaine to Giaus and you might be forgiven yet," he could feel Merlin contorting his thin body from behind him to get a better look at the green-eyed manservant.

"Thank you, Sire. You are most gracious," he briskly turned to flee, but was abruptly stopped by a sudden and overwhelming urge. Twisting his head around to meet the eyes of the young sorcerer, Carmine grinned, "You said… your name was Merlin?"

Straightening his back, Merlin silently nodded his head.

"I shall see you around then… Merlin," the word sweetly danced upon his tongue. Carmine lustfully stared at the manservant almost in awe, his luminescent eyes drifting aimlessly over the showing porcelain skin. He shook his head of the fantasies that had suddenly drifted into it. Remembering he had yet to introduce himself, his glimmering eye's returned to Merlin's, "My name's Carmine."

The fascinated warlock awkwardly shifted his feet, "Very nice to meet you, Carmine."

Feeling Gwaine's blood trickle down his left hand, Carmine began walking backwards, bumping into many columns as he kept his eyes fixed upon the opposite manservant's, "Well, I should… probably get going."

"Splendid idea," the prince hurriedly turned the man around, breaking his gaze with Merlin, and gestured down the corridor, "I believe Giaus' chambers are down there."

Without another thought, Carmine briskly trotted down the sunlight filled hallway as Gwaine groaned incoherently. He could feel Merlin's eyes burning through his back. The sorcerer looked down at his now trembling hands spotted with the blood of his companion. There was something hypnotic and chilling about the manservant which only fascinated Merlin further...

_ "What a strange name... Carmine."_

Arthur glared at the troublesome manservant as he flew down the hallway at a surprisingly swift pace. Returning his attention to Merlin, the prince timidly walked up to him while placing one of his hands upon the boy's boney shoulder. Merlin shivered at the unexpected embrace. The noble's voice was smooth and understanding, sending familiar shivers up Merlin's back, "Be in my chambers at six, sharp. There is still much that I need to discuss with you," awkwardly retrieving his hand, he sauntered down the empty corridor as beams of light reflected against his superb armor.

Clearing his conflicted mind, Merlin shouted after the fleeting figure, "But what about the stalks and your floors and the laundry and-"

Without turning around, Arthur shouted, "This matter is far more important, Merlin."

"Yes, Sire..." the frazzled sorcerer uncertainly walked in the opposite direction, while mussing his raven hair. All the while, a single word incessantly flying through the recesses of his mind.

_"Carmine... __Carmine__... __Carmine__...__"_


End file.
